


Death, Denied

by Wilusa



Series: Early Imaginings #1 [4]
Category: Carnivale
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-06
Updated: 2011-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilusa/pseuds/Wilusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben can save others...but can anyone save him? A followup to "Death, Reversed"; I never intended to take the idea any further than it goes here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

_I'm dyin'. Oh my God, I'm actually about to die!_

Ben Hawkins wasn't clear as to how it had happened - whether it had begun with an illness or an accident, whether he'd been in agony for a week, a month, or a year. In his confused state, he remembered mostly things he didn't want to remember. Like the stricken look on Ruthie's face when he'd asked her, "How old am I?"

She'd assured him he was still only eighteen.

 _I don't know if that's good or bad. Ruthie says it's good, 'cause young people are strong, an' that means I can fight this. But I sorta hoped I'd had a full life, even if I can't remember it._

 _I shoulda known better than to ask her that. If I was an old man, Ruthie would look diff'rent, somehow._

 _Wouldn't she?_

He was so worn down by pain, stress, and the demands of a rigid self-discipline that he wasn't clear about much of anything.

He knew something was terribly wrong in his chest. He believed it had been crushed. The pain was excruciating, every breath so hard-won that it seemed it must be his last. Time and again bouts of coughing had sent him spiraling toward oblivion. But each time he'd come back, gasping, weaker, yet still clinging to his ruined life.

Often - like now - he had pains in his left arm and shoulder, shooting up into his neck and jaw. _Why just the left side? I think that's supposed to mean somethin' bad. Can't remember what._

And his back ached constantly. _Been layin' on it too long. But I can't let anyone move me! I'll die if they move me._

At least for the moment the worst thing wasn't there, the Big Shaggy Thing that came and sat on his chest with all its incredible weight, pressed down on his injured chest and hurt it more. Ruthie couldn't see the Big Shaggy Thing, and he'd stopped trying to convince her it was real. _Maybe it ain't. It only comes when I'm hot, when I'm burnin' up..._

He was starting to feel warmer now.

 _Do I deserve this? God, are You demandin' I die 'cause I sinned by killin' Lodz?_

 _If You want me to die, God, I can't stop You from takin' me. But maybe You just want me to suffer a while. So it ain't wrong of me to hang on. For all I know, that may be what You want me to do._

 _At least I won't commit another sin by lettin' my body try to heal itself, an' hurt other people while it's doin' it. I won't, I won't!_

He knew his strength was being sapped by the strain of fighting to live, yet at the same time, suppressing the reflex that would have triggered miraculous self-healing. The process evidently couldn't start when he was asleep or unconscious. But in every waking moment, he had to expend precious energy to rein it in.

Ruthie knew he possessed healing powers. He'd told her, "I can't heal myself," and let it go at that - let her assume it was impossible for a healer to heal himself, ever.

 _Even if I could explain to Ruthie, get her an' Gabe a safe distance away, others would be in danger. Not much plant life around here - there's life-force to be drawn from Ruthie's snakes, but I can't be sure my powers wouldn't reach out an' hurt other carnies._

 _I may be so far gone that the healin' couldn't save me. But I can't just rest an' forget about it, I still have to tire myself out keepin' it from hurtin' others! What it's doin' is killin' me._

 _I can die knowin' that as my last act, I did the right thing._

 _But I don't want to die!!_

 _I'm only eighteen. An' my pa told me I was "meant for greater things"...did I really blow it all by killin' Lodz?_

 _Or...what was my sin? Was it killin' Lodz, or bringin' Ruthie back when she was meant to be dead?_

 _Had to be one or the other. I'm sure I made the right choice after that, when I walked out on Management an' refused to go near him again._

He was very hot now, hot and breathless and in pain, and he longed for some kind of relief - a cool, damp cloth on his forehead, maybe. But he couldn't ask for what he wanted, could only moan and hope someone heard.

Horror of horrors, the one who heard was the Big Shaggy Thing. The Thing plopped itself down on his chest, hard.

 _Noooo!_

At that moment he almost gave up. Why endure this any longer? He didn't want to die, but if the only alternative was hell on earth, why resist? It would be so easy to let go, just slip into death. _Death is cold. Cold is good. Death is good..._

Then he felt that cool, damp cloth on his forehead, and Ruthie's voice whispered fiercely, "Don't you dare leave me, Ben Hawkins! Don't you dare!"

 _No. No, 'course I won't. Not by choice._

 _I'm so hot, an' I've been so confused, I was forgettin'...Ruthie an' Gabriel are my family! When I was growin' up, I vowed that when I had a family, I'd never...abandon them...like my pa did me..._

The Big Shaggy Thing was still there, but it seemed to have eased up on him a little. He looked at Ruthie, tried to smile, and managed to squeeze her hand before he drifted off to sleep.

x

x

x

"I lied to the mayor."

"Wh-what? What mayor?" Ruthie was so fatigued she could barely recognize the man in her doorway, let alone comprehend what he was saying.

Samson sighed. "The mayor of the town that's had a carnival camped on its outskirts for two weeks. That's a mite unusual, don't you think?"

"Oh. Yeah." She had to put a hand up to shield her eyes from the light admitted by the open door. _How long have I been cooped up in here?_ "I've been meanin' to thank you for stayin' put, Samson. Why did you have to lie to the mayor? An' what did you say?"

"Ruthie, they want us to move on. They keep pesterin' me, sayin' that if we've got someone this ill, we should get him into a hospital. If they knew we ain't even had a doctor look at him, the cops'd be after us for sure."

She frowned. "I can understand that. But Ben's been insistin' all along, no doctor, no hospital! I won't let anyone treat him against his will.

"It don't seem to make sense, though. I know he's a fugitive, I remember them leg irons, but that was way back in Oklahoma. Can't be that big a deal, their losin' an eighteen-year-old kid."

"Uh, I wouldn't be so sure about that." Samson shifted uneasily. "He ever tell you what his crime was?"

"No. But it probably wasn't anythin' much. I know he was in a chain gang, an' chain gangs are hell, but people get sentenced to 'em for trivial stuff."

"That's true," Samson acknowledged. "But in this case I've seen the Wanted poster. He's wanted for murder, Ruthie! An' they're offerin' a reward of three hundred bucks."

Ruthie felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. But she pulled herself together and said, "Then he was wrongly accused. Ben wouldn't kill no one."

Samson seemed unwilling to meet her eyes. "Maybe not without cause. But I could see him killin', Ruthie. I could see him bein' capable of it..."

Not for the first time in the weeks since Loving, Ruthie had an eerie feeling that Samson knew something she didn't. _Ben too, and Apollonia._

"Anyway," the dwarf continued, "guilty or not, he's wanted for such a serious crime that it's understandable he'd rather die in your bed than risk bein' caught an' sent back there. At this point they'd either execute him or lock him up an' throw away the key. His life would be over, one way or another."

She gave a reluctant nod. "So what did you tell the mayor?"

Samson grimaced. "That the person we've got dyin' is real old, someone's grandpa. He's so old an' frail that it wouldn't be right to do nothin' more than we're doin' - keep him still, an' give him a comfortable death."

Now Ruthie felt as if a knife was being twisted in her gut. But she said steadily, "Good. That should keep folks satisfied for a while."

"But you know what they made me promise, Ruthie?" Samson gave her a hard look. "That we'd shut down our games o' chance."

"Oh, God." She knew that after two weeks in one place, those games of chance were the only carnival attractions that were still bringing in money. "Why?"

"They said we've been lurin' problem gamblers into losin' more than they can afford - they're the only ones come back night after night." Samson shrugged. "It's true, o' course. But it's also true that we gotta eat."

"Samson, I'm sorry. Like I've told you before, you can leave us behind an' move on. Just leave us a little supply of food -" She was upset about that, and nervous about being away from Ben's bedside this long, and to her utter disgust, she began to cry.

"No way!" Samson banged his cane on the door frame in frustration. "If you could go into town, put Ben in a hospital an' find rooms for yourself an' Gabe, _then_ I'd leave you behind. Temporarily. But I know you can't do that. An' I sure as hell ain't gonna leave you in a trailer out here in the boonies!"

After a few seconds' silence - which allowed her to get her sniffles under control - he put a hand on her arm and asked gently, "Ruthie, are you sure Ben couldn't tolerate the trailer's movin'? I ain't seen him in a week. We're talkin' about an eighteen-year-old here. I know you're tryin' to do right by him, but he may be tougher than you think."

"I only wish." She wiped her eyes. "C'mon in an' take a look. Judge for yourself."

She knew that was what he'd been angling to do all along.

Grimly, she led the carny boss through the cramped, stuffy trailer to where a red-eyed Gabriel hovered over the sleeping Ben.

She saw Samson glance at Gabriel's tear-stained face, open his mouth to say something, and close it again.

 _I know what he's thinkin'. Gabriel ain't pretendin' to favor that arm no more. If he had the mind of a grown man an' not that of a six-year-old who's helpless without his mama, he could be doin' his wrestlin' act with Samson as his talker. That's an act don't wear thin. Gabe could be bringin' in money for the carnival, while I was with Ben._

 _In fact, my act don't wear thin neither. At different times, I could make myself get out there an' perform, too, while Gabe looked after Ben..._

 _What's wrong with me? I never let myself have regrets about Gabriel! He is who he is, an' he's the sweetest child a mother could ask for!_

She was just being forced to cope with so much... _too_ much. Less than a month after nearly dying herself, how could she bear this stunning reversal? How could she watch the man she loved, the man who'd saved her, die an agonizing death?

It had begun two weeks ago, as what both she and Ben thought was an ordinary cold. She remembered his saying, "I've had colds before." He'd said it in an odd way, as if that commonplace fact was a surprising thought that had just occurred to him.

But overnight the cold had turned into what was almost certainly double pneumonia. Ruthie was sure multiple infections had set in. _And probably, worse than that has happened. A lot worse._

Everyone agreed she and Samson were the most responsible of the carnival folk. Between the two of them, they did all the informal doctoring. But now, as Samson laid his hand on Ben's forehead, she said sharply, "Don't hurt him!"

"You know I won't."

"D-don't try to move him!" Fearing Ben might be able to hear them, she leaned close and whispered into Samson's ear. "I know we haven't been keepin' him as clean as we should. He won't let us turn him on his side - seems to think it would kill him. An' I'm afraid he may be right."

Anticipating what the reply would be, she forestalled it. "Yes," she said, still in a whisper, "I know about bedsores an' blood clots. But this...this c-can't go on much longer. It's gonna end soon, one way or another. So there's no point in torturin' him."

"Agreed." When Samson turned to look at her, his face was almost as gray as Ben's.

After he finished his cursory examination, they moved a little distance away from the bed. A shaken Samson said, "The poor kid can hardly breathe. What do you think is wrong with him?"

Ruthie hadn't put it into words until now. But she said quietly, "From what he's told me about how bad his chest feels, I think both his lungs are at least partly collapsed. One of 'em may be totally collapsed. An' from other pain he's described, I'm pretty sure he's had a heart attack. Maybe more than one."

Samson said, "Jesus."

Gabriel had trudged after them; he gave a soft whimper, then was silent.

After a few seconds Samson asked, "Has he been conscious today?"

"Yes, he was awake for four hours this mornin'. But he suffers the whole time. I'm kinda torn, half wantin' him to be awake an' half not, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I understand. Is he eatin' anythin'?"

"I feed him a little soft food. He never says he's hungry, but when I feed him, he tries real hard to get some down. I think that shows how much he wants to get well, don't you?"

"Right, it sure does."

Samson couldn't look her in the eye, and she suspected he was humoring her.

As the two of them walked back toward the door, he said, "Jonesy's been wrackin' his brain, tryin' to remember if he ever overworked the kid or pushed him too hard. But he can't think of anythin' he did wrong. He says Hawkins never complained about the work, an' there was no sign he wasn't strong enough for it."

"Tell Jonesy no one blames him," Ruthie said automatically. "I'm sure the work had nothin' to do with it."

 _But what did cause it?_

 _Was Ben always in poorer health than we knew, because of the hard life he'd led?_

 _Or was there some truth in that made-up story we used back in Tipton, about miracle healings takin' a toll on the healer?_

 _I'm only alive today because Ben saved me. An' he's so young! If I could give my life to save his, I'd do it in a heartbeat._

 _Hell. I'd feel the same if he hadn't saved me, if he was three times the age he is. I'd lay down my life for him, if I could, because I love him._

As she wiped tears from her eyes she realized Samson had quietly taken his leave, without her even noticing.


	2. Chapter 2

The man standing in the shadow cast by Ruthie's trailer wore faded work clothes suitable for a roustabout. Rousties had been leaving the stalled carnival, and anyone who saw the newcomer would have taken him for a replacement hire.

Unless, of course, they knew him.

Or had seen him appear out of thin air.

Hack Scudder took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he opened his mind and verified that none of the horrors he dreaded had taken place. Yet.

That knowledge gave him no comfort. It told him the horror that surely would occur within a day or so was the one he dreaded most: the death of his son.

 _If Ben hasn't maimed a half-dozen people by now, he's consciously suppressing his self-healing._

 _He understands what he's doing. He's stronger and braver at age eighteen than I've ever been._

Hack stepped out of the shadows and looked around.

 _Carnivale._ It hadn't changed much in all these years. _The one place on earth to which I thought I could never return..._

 _The Enemy knew that. That's why they bought it and traveled all over the country with it, searching for my son. Snatched him while he was young and defenseless, hoping to corrupt him...he shouldn't have been drawn into any of this till he reached his mid-twenties!_

Hack didn't know exactly who or what "Management" was, in the sense of knowing a name or face. It wasn't important. All that mattered was that the carnival owner was an embodiment - far from the only one - of the Darkness he was sworn to combat.

He closed his eyes and saw Carnivale as he'd pictured it in his mind. A giant serpent slithering along the back roads of America, daring him, the Gentleman Geek, to try to bite off its head.

 _And I couldn't. Even after it caught Ben in its coils, I couldn't make myself come back._

 _Until now, when it's too late._

He was sure Ben's illness was the result of a psychic attack, payback for his having spurned Management. He'd intended, at the appropriate time, to teach his son the techniques the Templars had taught him for recognizing and repelling such attacks. Caught at the outset, they could be thwarted as easily as a man might bat away a fly.

But this crisis had arisen so suddenly that Hack had been unable to intervene. He'd been in Mexico, healing other people's children - youngsters injured when their school collapsed during an earthquake. Unfortunately, the fact that he spent most of his time in a noncorporeal state didn't enable him to travel more rapidly than other people. And the information Ben had needed was too complex to be communicated through dreams.

 _There's only one small thing I can do for my son now. I need to do it in person. And I **will** do it, no matter what ghosts I have to face. _

_I owe him that much._

 _And so much more..._

He strode up to the trailer door and knocked.

It was opened by a powerfully built young man who'd apparently been crying. _Has to be Gabriel._ The youth said, "Go 'way."

"Could I please speak to your mother?" Hack asked gently. "Tell her it's...Ben's father."

Gabriel stared at him, then retreated into the trailer. There was nothing to stop Hack from barging in, but he waited politely on the doorstep.

He heard Gabriel murmur something, then a woman's startled gasp. He winced.

Ruthie was at the door in an instant. She looked anxious and exhausted, but otherwise she'd changed very little since he'd last seen her.

"Hack? Hack! I can't believe it, after all these years -" She went rigid. "Oh God. Do you - do you know -?"

"Yes, yes," he assured her. "I know about Ben. That's why I'm here." He saw hope dawn in her eyes, and made himself crush it quickly. "But I can't heal him, Ruthie! I can't save his life."

All she said was, "Oh," but she swayed visibly, and he had to grab her and steady her.

After a few seconds she asked, "Why not? I know you have powers."

"He's my son..." He let his voice trail off, implying that was some sort of explanation. _At least it's not a lie. Can't tell her the truth - she'd_ _ **want**_ _me to heal him by harming her. The last thing any of us need is a battle over that._

Thanks to his ability to touch Ben's mind from a distance, he knew Ben had led her to believe a healer couldn't heal himself. She wouldn't question the prohibition's extending to close kin.

Ruthie had clung to him briefly, but now she backed off and gave him a wary look. "I'm not sure Ben will want you here. I don't know what's goin' on with you, but he used to think you wanted to kill him."

"I don't want to kill him."

"I'm sure you don't, but -"

"Is he conscious, Ruthie?"

"Y-yes. But I don't want you upsettin' him -"

"Please, Ruthie!" _I have to get in there. But forcing my way in should be the last resort._ "I promise I'll leave if Ben wants me to."

She gave a grudging nod, and led him into her bedroom. _The room hasn't changed much, either._

Prepared though he thought he was, he was shocked by Ben's appearance. But he didn't let himself show it. He did as he'd planned, approached the bed with his arms lovingly outstretched.

Ben's eyes widened. He shrank away from him, gasping, then blurted out, _"Don't touch me!"_

But in the next instant, a look of stunned realization came over the youth's face. He gazed up at Hack, trembling, and tears began to form in those expressive eyes. "M-ma?"

 _Yes! Just what I wanted._

Ruthie was furious. "That's it! He's afraid of you. An' you've got him so mixed up he's callin' for his mother! Get out!" She tried to shove Hack toward the door, and her brawny son seemed about to lend a hand.

He stood his ground. "I have to talk to Ben, Ruthie. In fact, I need to talk to him alone for a few minutes. I think he'll agree to that." He appealed directly to his son. "Please, Ben! I won't hurt you." Locking eyes with him and stressing every word, he said, "I promise I won't touch you without your consent. I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

Ruthie turned to look at Ben, and he tried to nod. " 'S okay," he told her in a ragged whisper. "Go."

"All right," she agreed, still sounding unhappy about it. "The trailer's small, so I'll go outside for a bit. Gabriel too."

"No one can know I'm here," Hack said quickly.

She looked exasperated, but nodded. "I never leave Ben, but Gabe can sit on the steps an' I'll go behind the trailer where I ain't likely to be seen. The fresh air will do me good. When you're through, knock on the inside o' the door to get Gabe's attention. But if it's more than a few minutes -"

"I know. Don't worry, Ruthie. It'll be okay."

He waited till Ruthie and Gabriel had left, then gently told Ben, "You know I can touch you without doing any healing. I swear I won't do any. Trust me?"

Ben managed a weak "Yeah." So Hack sat carefully on the edge of the bed, held his hand and stroked his hair.

"You were terrified at the thought of my touching you," Hack began, "because you were afraid I'd try to heal you and hurt Ruthie or Gabriel -"

Ben cut in with, "Or... _yourself_."

Hack swallowed hard. "Right. Or me."

"So maybe...Ma? D-di'n't hate me?"

Hack said quietly, "That's right. No matter what she may have said, I think there's a very good chance that at the end, she didn't hate you. She must have seen, years before, that your small healings affected plants and the like. And when she was dying the two of you were alone in the Dust Bowl, no other life of any consequence for miles around. If she'd let you help her, you would have harmed yourself.

"I think you had a mother who _loved_ you."

Ben's eyes were closed, but he wasn't trying to hold back his tears. He squeezed Hack's hand and said, "Th-thank you...Pa."

 _Yes,_ Hack told himself, _I was right to come. I've given him some comfort. And knowing what a good person Flora was at heart, I believe what I told him is true._

After a few seconds Ben opened his eyes, looked at Hack, and said, "Loving."

"What?"

"Graveyard...plants..."

"Oh, that," Hack said ruefully. "You noticed that when I healed you in that graveyard, nothing happened to the plants."

"You...hurt...yourself?"

"Yes," Hack admitted, "but not badly. I've found I can draw on my own life-force - I'm not sure how I do it. All I had to do that night was close a small wound and replace the blood you'd lost. But it depleted me enough that I couldn't hold a physical form much longer. That's why I vanished so quickly, couldn't stick around to give you more advice."

There was no need to tell Ben the rest of it: that he'd given away so much of his life-force over the years, seeking to atone for his sins, that he'd doomed himself to existence as an insubstantial wraith. The Grand Master of his Order had told him he could still have a normal life span, live into his seventies or eighties. But any time spent in this corporeal form reduced his life expectancy. By how much, no one knew. A day spent like this might shorten his life by a decade.

 _So what? I never expected to die of old age._

 _No, I shouldn't tell Ben that. But there are other things I **should** tell him._

"I want to be straight with you, Ben," he said heavily. "I don't have any magic tricks up my sleeve. Your heart and lungs are so badly damaged that there's no way I can heal you without hurting other people. And you've made it clear, by suppressing your own powers, that you aren't willing to hurt anyone." Ben watched him steadily, showing no surprise or dissent. "If you were still a child, I might do it anyway. But you're a grown man, so I have to respect your wishes.

"I would go against them in one area, sacrificing _myself"_ \- Ben stiffened, about to protest - "if I could. If it would work. But it wouldn't." Ben looked more relieved than puzzled, but Hack felt he had to explain. "I've given away a lot of my life-force, in bits and pieces. Just recently I used it to help accident victims in Mexico. So it's depleted - there isn't enough to be useful in this crisis, even if I poured all of it into you."

It was hard for Ben to speak, but he forced out the words, "Don't...want that."

Hack sighed. "Yes, I know." _I also know we could communicate mind-to-mind, but you'd find it so unsettling that it would probably do more harm than good._ "Anyway, here's where things stand. If I were to heal you here and now, some of the carnies would be injured. If I could get the carnival to leave - everyone, including Ruthie and Gabriel - and I used my life-force and even used Ruthie's snakes, it wouldn't be enough." _Enough to restore you as a wraith with a 30-year life expectancy, but being thrust suddenly into that existence would drive you mad._ "Taking you to a forest with lots more plant and animal life would work, b-but -" Unexpectedly, his voice broke.

 _But I couldn't get you there alive._

Ben whispered, "I un'erstan', Pa. 'S all right." Then his eyes widened in alarm, and he clutched Hack's hand. "Don't...don't... _kill!_ Promise!"

"Don't...oh God." _Of course_. _I should have expected him to think of the way he saved Ruthie._ "Okay, I'll have to address this. You don't want me to bring you back from death by killing someone else..."

"Promise!"

Hack looked into his son's agonized face and said quietly, "This is another area where I'd reserve the right to defy your wishes, Ben - if I could. But I can't. Because no one can be brought back from the dead more than once."

It took a few seconds for that to sink in.

When it did, Ben tried to scream, but he began gagging instead. His thin body convulsed in his father's arms, then lay frighteningly still. There was a soft tearing sound in his throat.

Hack held him, stroking his face, whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

At last Ben choked out a word. _"Babylon!"_

"Babylon...yes, that was why I killed Carl Butridge. I've always had a mental link with you, and I killed Butridge because you were dead. I'm sorry - I hoped I'd never have to tell you."

"Don't...remember..."

"You were fourteen, and you broke into a farmer's hen-house because you were starving. Remember that? The old coot beat you with his shotgun -"

"Oh, yeah. Jus' wanted...few eggs. Not stealin' no chickens..."

"I know, I know."

Ben was calmer now. He looked at Hack and said, "What about...them other miners?"

"I killed them all." _So I could survive to counsel you._ _Five hundred men, and I still have nightmares where I can pick out every one's screams._

 _And then I didn't even take good enough care of you to prevent this happening._

After a long silence Ben said, "Okay. Nex' time...I stay dead."

 _Yes. Unfortunately, you do._

For several minutes the only sound was Ben's labored breathing. His eyes were closed, and he lay so still that Hack thought he must have fallen asleep or lost consciousness. _Hard to tell the difference._

He decided to call Gabriel and Ruthie back in. Ruthie had allowed him more time than he'd expected. But as he was getting to his feet, Ben said in a bemused voice, "You...done all that...an' God ain't killed you?"

Hack sat down again. He took Ben's hand and said carefully, "Of course He hasn't. God doesn't punish us by killing us! If anything, He wants us to have time to make amends for our sins."

Ben looked up at him, frowning. "Thought...maybe...gotta die 'cause I killed Lodz."

"No!" _Good Lord. It would be cruel to tell him he's going to die because the Enemy was able to take advantage of his youth. But I can't let him think it's some Divine punishment!_

"Listen to me, Ben," he said slowly. "Illness usually strikes for reasons we can't presume to understand, but it's never a punishment sent by God. You've had to endure years of hardship and stress - like your mother, like Becca Donovan. That weakened your body's resistance to infection." _More sophistry, more not-quite lies._ "I know what happened with Lodz. You did commit a sin. You had no right to take the law into your own hands. But it was a minor sin. You didn't kill an innocent. You were in a position to kill the person who actually was responsible for Ruthie's death."

"Di'n't have no proof..."

"No. You lucked out. You could have killed an innocent man. Thankfully, you didn't.

"But you'd been under intolerable stress for twenty-four hours. You were frightened and frustrated and exhausted, at a point where you could barely think straight. Management had deliberately brought you to that point - which lessens your responsibility.

"Before that, you'd rejected an easy chance to kill an innocent. You'd made a heroic attempt to sacrifice yourself. And later, you turned away from Management. God sees all that!"

"Ain't 'nough," Ben whispered, his eyes closing again. "Ain't done...good deeds...like you, down in Mexico..."

 _Why did I have to mention that?_ "Ben! Ben! Look at me!" The eyes opened, but they weren't focusing.

"Ben, I have so much to atone for! Your sins are nothing next to mine. You know about Babylon. There's more, maybe worse."

That got Ben's attention. "Worse'n Babylon?"

"In some ways, yes." _It's been preying on my mind - maybe I need to let it out_. "I'll tell you, and you can judge for yourself. Remember, God has never punished me for this!

"Years back, there was another time Ruthie was bitten by a snake. I spent the night watching over her, here in this bedroom, not knowing whether I'd need to use my powers."

Ben was wide awake now. "She said...you di'n't."

"She never realized it, but I used them. Oh yes, I used them."

"She was dead? An' you -?" Ben broke off in confusion, doubtless remembering Hack had said no one could be brought back more than once.

"No, she didn't die. I got nervous after hours of waiting for her fever to break. I knew that when morning came it would be hard for me to justify staying on, being the only one to take care of her. So I went ahead and healed her."

Ben looked bewildered.

Hack made himself gaze directly into his son's eyes. "The problem with that," he said steadily, "was that we weren't alone in the trailer. Gabriel was a small child at the time - he's only a little older than you. The life-force I used came from him. That's why Gabriel is mentally retarded _._ "

He was prepared for Ben's horrified gasp. He wasn't surprised when Ben jerked his hand away from him, but it still hurt.

He forced himself to go on. "And I'm not even sure there was a need to use my powers. Ruthie might have recovered on her own."

He _was_ surprised when Ben groped for his hand again. Ben was in shock, his eyes glazed with unshed tears, but once again he choked out a single word. _"Ac-ci-dent."_

"Maybe not." _Don't take the easy way out. Tell him the truth._ "You haven't heard the worst of it. I've always suspected that on some level, I did it deliberately. Because I was jealous."

"J-jealous? Ruthie said...you an' her never..."

"No, we never did," Hack assured him, "and neither of us ever wanted to. We were just casual friends. I hadn't gotten over losing your mother back then, and I let everyone know it.

"What I was jealous of was Ruthie's having her child with her, when I couldn't have _you_."

Ben made a sound that was close to a whimper, and his tears spilled over. "Thought...you...abandoned me!"

Hack shook his head. "Not by choice. I did it to protect you. There wasn't a day went by that I didn't think of you.

"And I'm afraid I may have hurt Ruthie's child deliberately, for spite! He was so young at the time that she never knew he hadn't been destined all along to be retarded. But I knew. I left Carnivale when I realized what I'd done."

Once he'd started talking about it he couldn't stop. "Do you see why I think that's worse than Babylon? I killed a man there to save your life. When I went on to kill hundreds more, I did it so I could escape with my own life. I can't defend what I did, but at least something significant was at stake. And the people I killed were adults, not particularly nice ones.

"I didn't kill anyone here at Carnivale, but I betrayed a friend and injured an innocent child. And my only reason for doing it was that I resented their being together!"

Ben tugged on Hack's sleeve, surprisingly hard, and pulled him down closer to the bed. "Pa...you listen! Stop...beatin' up on yourself. You ain't even...sure...you done it...on purpose!"

Hack realized he'd been babbling. "No," he admitted, "I'm not."

And then he found himself saying something he hadn't intended. "Ben...should I confess this to Ruthie at some point? Tell me what to do!"

Understandably, Ben stared at him and said, "Why...ask... _me?_ "

"I...I'm not sure." Why had he felt that sudden compulsion?

He'd had a purpose in his confession: to make Ben see that God wasn't in the habit of meting out death sentences for even appalling sins. That made sense. But why was he, at his stage of life, seeking guidance from a dying eighteen-year-old?

"I can't explain it. But somehow, I know it's you I should ask. Please, Ben, tell me what you think! I'll abide by whatever you say. Should I confess to her?"

Ben hesitated, clearly wrestling with this unwelcome dilemma. But when he spoke, his voice was firm. _"No."_

Hack sighed. He felt relieved and, at the same time, guilty for having put the burden of decision on his son. "Thank you," he whispered.

He still didn't understand what had just happened, but he tried to shake it off. "Thinking of Ruthie and Gabriel," he said, "I'd better let them know they can come back in."

 _"Pa!"_ Ben clutched at him. "You...stay...too?"

"Yes, I'll stay," Hack said softly. "If you want me, I'm sure Ruthie won't have any objection.

"Don't worry, son. As long as you need me, I'll be here."


	3. Chapter 3

"Ruthie? Wh-whyzit...gettin' so cold?" Ben couldn't stop shivering.

"It is cold, isn't it, sweetie?" Ruthie's voice was soft and soothing. "That's 'cause it's, uh, night. It gets cold at night, but sometimes we're asleep an' don't notice.

"We're tryin' to help you warm up. Gabriel's rubbin' your feet - can you feel that?"

"N-no."

There was a pause. Then Ruthie said, "That's fine. It shows he's doin' a good job, bein' real gentle.

"Can you feel your pa an' me rubbin' your hands?"

"No."

This time she couldn't think of anything to say.

 _I know I'm supposed to feel it._

 _Hell, I've known all along I'm gonna die. I'm gettin' to be a burden. I should just let go -_

 _No!_ He thought of a new reason why he shouldn't. _Management is dangerous! I gotta protect my family!_

 _But I ain't doin' them no good now._

"Pa?" he whispered.

"I'm here, Ben. Can you see me?"

"Yeah. Pa...c'n you...help me...hold it in?"

 _You know what I mean. Can you help me block the damn self-healin'? Gotta hold it in the whole time, an' I'm so tired..._

"I'm sorry, son. You have to do it yourself."

That got Ruthie's attention. Ben heard her asking Hack, "What was that about? What were you tellin' him he has to do himself?"

Hack said, "I think he was talking about those fits of coughing. You know what they do to him. He probably imagined I could keep him from coughing. I wish I could!"

 _Now I'm sayin' dumb things an' makin' Pa lie for me._

"I think you should take a nap, Ben," Hack said gently. "Relax, get a little rest."

His point, Ben knew, was that self-healing couldn't kick in while he was sleeping.

 _But every time I let myself drift away I'm afraid I won't get back. I don't wanna leave the people I love! Management's dangerous, gotta protect them..._

"It's okay to sleep for a while," Hack told him. "I'll be right here holding your hand."

By now Ben didn't have a choice. _Sleep, so I won't notice it's cold..._

 _But I was too hot before an' I wanted it to get cold so the Big Shaggy Thing would go away. Where did it go...?_

He felt himself slipping backward, into sleep, into the world of dreams.

 _Whatever I dream about, it can't be no worse than what's happenin' here._

Then a hot wind almost blew him off his feet, Ruthie screamed in terror, and he thought, _Oh, shit._

x

x

x

They were caught in a hurricane, being pelted by hail that, impossibly, burned the skin. Gabriel was there too; both Ruthie and Gabriel were clinging to Ben, expecting him to protect them and lead them to shelter. But he didn't have the faintest idea what to do. And when he _wanted_ Hack Scudder in one of his dreams, Scudder wasn't there.

A looming bulk approached them.

 _Oh God, it's the Big Shaggy Thing._

 _No, it ain't. This is its bigger, shaggier brother!_

 _Calm down,_ Ben told himself. _I know I'm havin' a dream. All I gotta do is think of openin' my eyes wider, an' it'll be gone._

That trick brought about a change, but not what he expected.

The hurricane-ravaged landscape looked more intimidating than before. The hail was hotter, the approaching behemoth more fierce.

And Ruthie and Gabriel had been transformed into two other people. They were still a woman and a man, still cowering and relying on Ben for protection. But he somehow knew they were a couple, like himself and Ruthie. They were both young, small of build, darker-skinned than he. _Not black, but darker than Injuns._

Then, in confusion, he discovered that his own body didn't feel the same. _It ain't so much that they're small, I'm taller!_ And when he looked down at his hands and arms, he realized his skin was the same color as that of his companions.

He had the strange thought, _Well, of course. This is the only skin color they've ever seen._

The menacing creature lunged at them. The young couple shrieked. He didn't know what to do -

And the dream changed.

x

x

x

Unfortunately, its new chapter didn't bring Ben any relief. He was still buffeted by a hot wind, only now it was hitting him with dust that threatened to choke him. He was himself again, but he was back in a Dust Bowl that was worse than the reality, digging his mother's grave.

 _Or is this a grave I'm bein' made to dig for myself?_

The bulldozer came at him, and he perceived for the first time that it was really the Big Shaggy Thing. It was about to crush him, it _was_ crushing him...

But then the bulldozer operator was yelling at him and mocking him, and the operator transformed into Lodz. They weren't in Oklahoma; they were in a place that was even worse, a vast, parched desert under a blazing sun.

Once again Ben sensed that he was taller. But he was still standing over a freshly dug grave. A secret grave in the middle of nowhere in which someone - perhaps he himself - would lie forever, lost to his loved ones?

That seemed wrong. Appalling. And yet...Ben had the strange idea it was he, not Lodz, who wanted the site kept secret.

 _It's a dream. Dreams don't hafta make sense._

 _Maybe the only part o' this dream that means somethin' is the heat. I can't breathe, I'm gonna die in this damn desert..._

He felt a moment's concern at the prospect of not having a proper funeral, prayers led by a minister.

 _Bad thought._ Lodz transformed into the clergyman Ben had seen in other dreams, the one he knew was evil. The man's eyes were solid black, black and glowing, and instead of offering prayers he threw his head back and laughed.

 _Maybe it's these people I don't want knowin' where the grave is, 'cause they'd desecrate it?_

The clergyman could apparently read his thoughts. He brought his laughter under control long enough to look at Ben and call out gleefully, "You're getting _**warmer!**_ "

x

x

x

"He's burning up again," Hack said dully.

"Yeah, I know." Sighing, Ruthie closed her Bible and laid it aside.

He glanced at it. "Is that giving you any consolation?"

"No. I tried openin' it at random a half-dozen times, hopin' I'd find somethin' that would. But every passage I laid my eyes on was grimmer than the last."

After a moment's hesitation, Hack said, "When I first saw it, I thought you meant to read something 'uplifting' to Ben."

Ruthie shook her head vehemently. "He told me his ma used to read the Bible to him every blessed day, an' he was sick of it."

 _Besides,_ she admitted to herself, _I don't want him confusin' me with her._

Watching Hack, she thought, _If things were different, he'd probably be givin' me hell for havin' seduced his teenage son._

 _For that matter, if things were different, I'd be pryin' to find out what he's been doin' all these years, an' why his bein' here has to be kept secret._

 _None of those things matter now._

"You should eat somethin', Hack," she told him kindly. "No one's payin' attention to how much food Gabe picks up for us."

"Thanks, Ruthie, but I'm not hungry."

 _That's understandable. He must still be in shock at seein' Ben like this. I've been dealin' with it long enough that I realize I need to keep my strength up._

Ben moaned, and she bent to stroke his forehead. He clearly wasn't having a restful sleep; her heart ached for him.

And not only for him. "Do you think he can hear us, Hack?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," Hack said. "I'm not sure how soundly he's sleeping."

And then he said something else - in an altered voice, a strangely different timbre. **"Look at me."**

Puzzled, Ruthie turned to look. Gazing into her eyes, Hack said in that same odd voice, **"Can you hear me? Nod if you can."**

That, at least, was what Ruthie heard. His lips had never moved.

Stunned, she slowly nodded.

 **"I wasn't sure this would work,"** Hack's voice continued inside her head. **"I think I can only do it because we're at close range, and you have an emotional link with Ben.**

 **"I got the impression just now that you wanted to say something to me without his hearing."** It was, of course, inconceivable that both of them leave his bedside at the same time. **"If that's so, just think it and direct the thought at me as if you were speaking. Don't worry - I won't be able to read any of your other thoughts."**

Ruthie swallowed hard. _What sort of man is this?_

It didn't matter. She looked at him and "told" him what she'd wanted to say. **"I refuse to give up on Ben. But I do understand that if God lets him pull through, he won't be like he was. There's been too much damage done.**

 **"If he's never able to work again, never strong enough to make love again, even if he's a bedridden invalid for the rest of his life, my feelings won't change. I'll love him an' take care of him, always.**

 **"I thought it might give you some comfort to hear that. Every parent knows what it's like to worry about a child."**

Hack replied, **"Thank you for telling me, Ruthie."**

The words alone didn't convey much. But his "voice" was shaking, and his eyes had suddenly filled with tears.

x

x

x

Ben was walking in the road near Tipton, trying to get back to Carnivale. _Did I walk here from the desert? Can't remember._ The road was jammed with cars and people, and he knew they all had the same destination. Crowds were flocking to see him, the healer, put on what he knew would be a phony show.

Someone recognized him, and they mobbed him in the road. He tried to deny who he was. But throngs pressed around him. And then they were crushing him, squeezing the breath out of him...

 _Serves me right for goin' along with this fraud._

 _But...I ain't supposed to die here, am I? Gabriel's supposed to be here to rescue me. Where's Gabriel?_

 _This is a dream. He ain't here._

 _Can I die in a dream?_

He was suffocating, and he dimly realized that might be why he was dreaming about a mob crushing him. He still wasn't willing to yield without a fight. So he broke free and ran up a hill -

But when he turned and looked down, the mob had become an army. A mighty force in full battle array, all gazing up at him, brandishing their spears - _spears?_ \- and screaming.

 _My God. What did I do to get a whole army chasin' me?_

 _It ain't real. It's a dream, remember?_

This time he tried to end it by closing his eyes.

When he opened them, he was standing on a ledge over the gate of a medieval city. Its streets teemed with people, and they too were looking up at him and screaming.

 _What do they want?_ He swayed dizzily. _I'm gonna fall, an' they'll tear me to bits..._

 _No. Just hang on, hang on!_


	4. Chapter 4

Hack didn't believe Ben's eyes would ever open again.

 _I can't cling to hope like Ruthie. Am I being disloyal?_

 _I know more than she does. I know that on top of everything else, whenever he's been conscious, he's had to struggle against his self-healing. There's no way anyone can survive an ordeal like that._

 _When he dies, will the role he was meant to play revert to me?_

Down the road, Hack knew, he'd feel white-hot anger at the Enemy. He'd stir himself to action, regain the will to fight.

But for now he could only mourn.

He didn't react to the knock on the trailer door. Just some carny making a polite inquiry - if Gabriel didn't turn the caller away, Ruthie would.

They could hear Gabriel in the doorway, saying, "Ben ain't got no use for nothin' like that, Appy. He's sick."

That brought Ruthie to her feet. "Appy? I'd better see what she wants." She'd told Hack how the shock of the fire in her bus had brought the psychic out of her catatonic state.

He still wasn't interested, paid no attention to the low murmur of women's voices on the trailer steps. It ended, the door closed, and Ruthie came back. He didn't even look up.

"What do you think o' this, Hack?" Ruthie sounded puzzled. "Appy says she dreamed that Ben needs it, an' she has no idea why!"

That finally got his attention. "Wh-what?"

Ruthie was holding a Tarot card. "She said it may have been one of those random, crazy dreams that mean nothin' at all. It ain't even the card she's always associated with Ben. But she was afraid not to bring it over, in case it really was important."

She handed it to Hack, and he looked at it dubiously. "The King of Swords? What card did she associate with Ben?"

"The Magician, she says."

That at least made sense.

Hack turned this card over in his hands, inspecting it. It came from the common Rider-Waite deck, showing the king in a sky-blue robe, as befit the association of Swords with the element of air. The King of Swords symbolized - what? A general?

 _No connection with Ben, as far as I can see._

He found himself remembering a different, more elaborate deck used by the Templars. That deck used famous works of art...and the image chosen for the King of Swords was of a "general" honored as a saint. _Could that be the tie-in? A dedication to the saint, comparable to giving someone a St. Jude or St. Christopher medal?_

 _Seems too far-fetched. More likely the dream meant nothing at all._

"I don't see any point to it," he said. "But it can't hurt to put it in his hand."

Ruthie nodded. "Right. Maybe he'll know a friend was thinkin' of him an' tryin' to help him, an' that will do him some good."

 _Oh, Ruthie. You want desperately to hope, don't you?_

Hack leaned over the bed and placed the card in Ben's right hand, trying to close the limp fingers around it. "The King of Swords card, Ben. Apollonia brought it over because she thought you needed it."

"He didn't have feelin' in his hands," Ruthie said anxiously.

But at that moment Ben's hand moved, his fingers seeming to explore the surface of the card.

"He knows it's there," Hack assured her.

It made no sense at all, but he himself felt oddly relieved.

x

x

x

Ben found himself back in the fiery hurricane with the distraught young couple. The demon lunged at them. But this time he knew what to do.

 _Do I "know what to do," or am I **rememberin'** somethin' I **did?**  
_

Either way, he reached for his sword. He held it up, confidently asserting his authority, and saw that the blade he wielded was not metal but flame.

The demon roared, shrieked, flailed about in impotent rage...and melted away. Ben covered the young husband and wife with his shield as the storm abated.

Then he reached out with his mind and confirmed that the guards he'd posted around the Forbidden Zone were still there, armed with their own flaming swords. He turned to the awestruck couple. "Come, follow me," he told them. "No harm will befall you."

The husband glanced back regretfully in the direction from which they'd come. Ben laid a hand on his shoulder and said kindly, "Don't look back. What's done is done.

"You've lost something, but you've gained something as well. It's not a bad trade. A new life awaits you in a new land."

The man and wife looked up at him and smiled, and he was sure he'd never forget those grateful, trusting young faces...

x

x

x

Then the scene changed, and he was back in the desert, contending with a demon over the location of a grave.

This time he understood what was at stake.

"He was a good man, a holy man!" the demon insisted. "He surely deserves to be honored in death!"

"He was one of the greatest, noblest men who ever lived," Ben said quietly. "He deserves that his burial site not become a bone of contention among nations, the cause of a war that will one day be fought with horrific weapons."

"That will never happen."

"It will. You see the future as clearly as I do, and you want it to happen!"

The demon sneered, then took another tack. "In any case, you can't suppress the knowledge."

"I can and I will. I'll move his remains as many times as necessary. If mortals learn the secret, I won't harm them, but I'll assure that they die without passing it on."

"In the far future, we'll be able to claim his burial site has been found, falsify evidence - we can place it anywhere!"

"No. Any false evidence will be _proven_ false before serious harm is done."

 _But if they find the actual site it will be a place of miracles, and no other evidence will be needed._

 _I won't let them find it._

He drew his mighty sword, drove the demon away, and proceeded to move the grave...

x

x

x

Then he found himself on a hilltop, looking down on a battle-ready army. Soldiers spotted him and spread the word; faces turned upward, eager, yet hardly daring to believe.

He smiled down on them...and held aloft his famous shield.

The crowd erupted in cheers. Now they'd recognized him, beyond a doubt. They were ready to welcome him as their savior, to follow him anywhere.

He smiled again to himself.

 _All too often, it truly is necessary that men fight and die._

 _But not today._

On this day he planned to send them - unbeknownst to them - rushing not toward the opposing army but away from it. Then he'd visit the other side, which held him in equally high regard, and send them in the "wrong" direction as well.

 _And all involved will have muddled memories of a "great victory"..._

x

x

x

Suddenly, he was looking down on a gathering in 10th-century Rome - a grieving procession led by Pope Gregory, to pray for relief from the plague. The townspeople caught sight of him and recognized his shield. They began shrieking, some falling on their knees, others rising on tiptoe and straining upward in desperate supplication.

 _Oh yes. What I love most is to heal._

 _I don't understand why God has allowed the plague to ravage Rome, or why He's given me the power to end it. I only know that He has, and I'm deeply grateful to be the instrument of His mercy._

x

x

x

Ruthie woke from the nap she'd been taking in her chair, and moved immediately to check that Ben was still breathing.

"He is," Hack said softly. "I told you I'd wake you if anything happened."

"Yes, I know." Looking at Hack, she wondered, _Does the man ever sleep?_ The two of them had encouraged Gabriel to keep regular hours, and ignore their sleeping at odd times. But whenever she'd urged Hack to take his turn, he'd said he wasn't sleepy.

Then she looked more closely at Ben. "Hack! He's breathin' easier. There's no fever. An' I think his color is better, don't you?"

"He does seem more peaceful," Hack said cautiously. "I'm not sure what that means."

 _You're afraid to let yourself hope._

She knew Ben's father had been praying. She'd heard him. But hope was something else again, a luxury he evidently wouldn't allow himself.

She, on the other hand, clutched it as a drowning woman would a life preserver.

x

x

x

She was still clinging to it four hours later when Ben stirred slightly, opened his eyes, and whispered, "It's over."

"Wh-what?" _What does "over" mean?_ She looked at Hack, and saw uncertainty and fear written on his face.

" 'S all right," Ben mumbled. "I ain't gonna die. Jus' weak now, gotta get some sleep..." With a seemingly mighty effort, he added, " 'Splain in the mornin', okay?"

"Okay." She was crying, giddy with relief, as she leaned over to kiss his forehead. _This is real, I know it is, it has to be!_

Another look at Hack showed him to be weeping too.

Ben began trying to turn on his side, and they rushed to help him - Hack turning him, Ruthie finding pillows to put at his back. He murmured drowsily, "Love you...both...so much."

"We love you too," they said in unison. They looked at each other and smiled, with tears still streaming down their faces.

The King of Swords Tarot card had slipped out of Ben's hand. Hack picked it up and tried to give it back to him. "Do you want to hold onto this, Ben?"

Ben's eyes were closing, but he blinked and got them open again. "Don't need a sword right now," he said. "I foun' my shield."

Hack gulped and said, "Oh." Then, "You still have it?" He seemed to be trying to imagine what kind of shield would accompany a sword that was merely a picture on a Tarot card.

"Warrior always sleeps un'er his shield," Ben said firmly. Then he patted the space in the bed beside him and said, "Ruthie? Come...sleep wi' me...un'er my shield?"

 _Oh God. What should I do?_ She wasn't embarrassed about their relationship, or unwilling to go through the motions of crawling under an imaginary shield. _Does he think he's a knight in armor?_ But...

 **"Hack?"** she pleaded mentally. **"I'm still afraid of jarrin' him! Do you think it's safe?"**

The answer came immediately. **"I think so, Ruthie. He was willing to turn on his side now - that didn't seem to hurt him. And it's a good sign that he's lucid enough to know which of us he wants in bed with him!"**

Ruthie stuck her tongue out at Hack, then grinned and crawled into bed.

 _But I'm not gonna sleep. I'll be listenin' to every breath Ben takes, all night...or all day, or whatever time it is._

She hadn't been sure he was still awake. But he reached out to pull her closer, and muttered, "Will you marry me?"

Ruthie almost choked.

Then she said, "If you remember this in the morning...yes."

x

x

x

For a few minutes, Ruthie's optimism had been infectious. But as soon as she and Ben dropped off to sleep - which they did at almost the same time - Hack's fears returned.

 _That may have been nothing more than a burst of false strength before the end._

 _If he's not in pain, it may mean only that his body is shutting down and he's lost sensation._

 _If he seems to be breathing easily, it may be that he's stopped struggling to breathe **deeply**._

 _And if he really is going to live, Ruthie was right in what she said before: not even he can make a full recovery from this. He'll be an invalid all his life. She'll have a harder time than she thinks, adjusting to that. He may not be able to adjust at all._

Hack wasn't used to spending this much time in a corporeal form. Now, worn out by worry, he did something he hadn't done in years.

He slept.


	5. Chapter 5

Hack woke with a start, and quickly looked over at the bed.

Ruthie was asleep. But Ben was wide awake, lying there quietly with a half-smile on his face, watching _him_.

Ben put a finger to his lips to ask for silence, then began easing out of the bed, taking care not to wake Ruthie.

Hack leapt to his feet with a gasp. _No!_

Ben gave him a stern look, repeating his shush-ing motion. He got out of bed with no difficulty, then looked comically appalled at finding himself dressed in an oversize nightshirt - presumably Gabriel's - and worse yet, an adult diaper. Hack grabbed a robe of Ruthie's and handed it to him. He looked at it dubiously, shrugged, and solved his immediate problem by putting it on.

Hack was shaking like a leaf, but when Ben silently indicated they should go into the next room, he didn't try to overrule him. Ben was a trifle unsteady on his feet. But he made it to Ruthie's table with a minimum of help.

When he was settled at the table, the first thing he said was, "Do we have anythin' to eat, Pa?"

There wasn't much, but Hack found him a candy bar and a bottle of Nehi. He watched, dazed, as Ben devoured the candy and licked the last of the chocolate off his fingers.

"That's better." Ben gave a contented sigh. "Sorry I had to eat right away, Pa. I really needed it." He reached across the table to clasp Hack's hands. "What I shoulda said first is that I'm so grateful - to you, an' Ruthie, an' Gabe - for takin' care o' me! I love you all. An' you, Pa - somehow, I know you saved my life."

Hack was still shaking. "Forget about us. What happened? Are you - are you really all right? If you are, where did the life-force come from?"

Ben frowned. "Okay, listen. One little problem is that there were all kinds o' things I understood an' wanted to tell you last night - or whenever it was. Before I went back to sleep. I just couldn't stay awake. An' now I think there's a lot I've forgotten. Like dreams you can't remember when you wake up in the mornin', y'know?

"But I do have the important things straight. To begin with, I am all right. Nothin' wrong with me now 'cept that I'm a little weak from not havin' eaten enough lately. I should be able to go back to work in a couple days."

"A...couple...days?" Hack still couldn't believe it.

"An' there was no life-force taken from anywhere. None needed." Ben knit his brow. "As I understand it, that's 'cause the problems I was havin' weren't natural, they were caused by an attack. I mean an attack by enemies, usin' some kind o' psychic powers."

Hack thought incredulously, _He learned that in his sleep?_ Aloud, he said, "I knew it was a psychic attack. If I'd been here when it started, I could have shown you how to fight it off. But the Templars led me to believe that once damage had been done, it wasn't any different from a natural illness."

"This, uh, gets complicated," Ben told him. "I'm sure I understood it better last night. For starters, recoverin' from one o' those attacks don't need no life-force. The enemy has to do a lot o' work to keep your heart or lungs damaged, or whatever. If they let up, you snap back to normal.

"But it makes sense that the Templars didn't know that. If an enemy was doin' it to you an' got sick o' toyin' with you, he'd just kill you. Poof, you'd be gone.

"The thing with me is that I'm different, somehow." Ben looked perplexed. "Not just different from folks like Ruthie, different from you, too. Did you know that?"

Hack shook his head. "No."

"For some reason, enemies who attack me with psychic powers can't kill my human form -" Ben stopped abruptly. " 'Human form'? That's creepy...I don't know why I said that. What I mean is, they can't kill me directly like they could you. Only indirectly, if I give up an' let myself die to escape what they're doin' to me. Does that make sense? They could torture me for twenty years if they wanted to, but they couldn't kill me if I kept hangin' in there.

"Last night I realized that, somehow. It was like I remembered somethin' I'd forgotten. Once I understood, there was no chance I'd ever give up. An' the enemy knew that. They could've decided to keep torturin' me for years. But that would tie them up, keep them workin' their tails off for nothin', when they could be spendin' their time in more profitable ways.

"So like I told you last night, it's over. I'm sure they'll never try it again."

Hack was stupefied.

When he found his voice he asked, "What would have happened if one of us had tried to use our healing powers?"

"I ain't sure," Ben said grimly, "but it wouldn't have been good. Maybe nothin' woulda happened, except that we woulda sinned by riskin' injury to other people. Or maybe we woulda hurt someone, an' not helped me at all.

"I know one thing. If it was you that tried, it woulda tipped Management off that you're here."

Hack shuddered. That would have been a disaster, with Ben fighting for his life.

 _Ben_ _ **is**_ _different even from me,_ he mused. _No doubt about it._

 _What made him call his body his "human form"? He's my son. If he's not human, what is he?_

Hack was aware he'd had previous incarnations. But as far as he knew, he'd always been human. In every life he remembered, he'd been a Templar. That was an affiliation to be proud of in some time periods, a source of shame in others.

 _What was it Ben told me? "Somehow, I know you saved my life." I didn't take that seriously when he said it, but maybe I should have._

 _And later, he said he thinks he remembered something he'd forgotten..._

 _What reminded him of whatever it was?_

He recalled handling that Tarot card, and thinking of another King of Swords card that bore another picture. A "general," a very special one, honored as a saint.

The only saint Hack knew of who wasn't a human being _._

 _What if Ben's memories were triggered not by Appy's Tarot card itself, but by his touching it and picking up the thought I'd had when I touched it?_

"Ben," he said slowly, "do you remember the shield you kept talking about last night?"

"Shield?" Ben clearly hadn't thought of it till that moment. His eyes narrowed. "Yes! The shield is important. It's as if...as if I always have it with me, even when I can't see it. It's part of who I am."

"What does it look like?"

"Look like? It...it don't always look the same. It looks the way people expect it to look, just like -" He broke off.

"What were you going to say?"

Ben seemed uncomfortable. "I almost said 'just like I do.' That don't make no sense!"

 _In the here and now, no,_ Hack reflected _. But there have been other places, other times._ He asked carefully, "Any writing on the shield?"

Ben opened his mouth to give a quick answer, then stopped to think. At last he nodded. "Yeah. There is somethin' on it. I think it's important, but I don't know the language."

"Can you tell me what the words look like?"

Ben was deep in concentration. "Three words. Short words...okay, I've got it. _Quis ut Deus._ Can you make sense outta that?"

 _"Quis ut Deus,"_ Hack whispered. "And you're sure...you're sure this was _your_ shield."

" _Is_ my shield," Ben corrected him. "Do you know what it means?"

Hack hesitated, then reached a decision. "Yes, I know. But, Ben, I think that if you were meant to know at this time, you'd remember it. It doesn't mean anything bad. On the contrary, it's very good. Will you be content, for now, with my telling you that?"

Ben was staring at him. "The way you put it...what will you do if I say I ain't content?"

Hack flinched. Then he met Ben's eyes and said, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

 _With that, I've already told him he outranks me._

Ben squeezed his hand and said gently, "That's enough, Pa. I'll remember the rest when I'm meant to."

 _Yes, I'm sure you will._

For his own part, Hack would never forget it.

 _ **Quis ut Deus**. Latin for "Who is like God." _

_"Who is like God." The cry of the angels in their war against Satan at the beginning of time. The motto emblazoned on the shield of their leader. But also, his very name. Ben said that shield is "part of who I am"..._

 _"Who is like God." Its meaning has always been veiled in mystery. Was it a question? If so, was it meant as a rebuke to the demons who dared deny His authority? Or as a rallying cry to the angels, urging them to emulate His goodness?_

 _Or was it meant to be understood as "He who is like God"? A simple description of the one who bore the shield and the name, given him by God Himself?_

 _In English, "Who is like God."_

 _In Latin, **"Quis ut Deus."**  
_

 _In Hebrew..."Michael."_

 _The saint on the Tarot card._

 _My son?_

 _My son is an incarnation of the Archangel Michael??_

He still found that hard to accept.

 _But if it's true, it would explain why I instinctively turned to him for advice about confessing to Ruthie._

He cleared his throat. "Ben? Wait a second till I check something." He made sure Ruthie and Gabriel were still asleep in their respective beds, then returned and continued in a near-whisper. "I know this is a change of subject. But...remember my asking you whether I should tell Ruthie I caused what happened to Gabriel? Why did you say I shouldn't?"

Ben winced at the reminder of that conversation. But he didn't resist discussing it. "First off," he said quietly, "I didn't mean you should lie if she asks you. But I don't think that's gonna happen.

"Ruthie hardly ever thinks about Gabe's not bein' what most folks consider normal. She adores him. An' he has a good life. Neither o' them is sufferin'. They might or might not be as happy as they are now - assumin' Ruthie was alive - if you hadn't done what you did.

"That don't mean you didn't sin, if it was deliberate. But there's no need to apologize to Ruthie - it'd make her feel worse, not better. Truth is, when you asked me that, you were thinkin' more of yourself than of her. Sorta wallowin' in guilt, wantin' to be punished, when you should stop broodin' an' move on." Ben paused and frowned. He looked as if he'd surprised himself with that analysis. "If you really were that concerned about it," he concluded wryly, "an' not just usin' it to make me stop carryin' on about _my_ sins."

"Oh, I was concerned about it. You helped me - a lot."

 _And I'm learning you're much more mature than the typical eighteen-year-old._

 _I wonder how you'll react when you learn - again - that you're an eons-old archangel?_

x

x

x

Ruthie hadn't meant to fall asleep. When she woke and found herself alone in bed she knew a moment of terror. _I passed out, an' Ben died durin' the night an' they've already taken his body away?_

But then she heard the low murmur of men's voices coming from the next room. There were three voices now: Gabriel's, Hack's...and Ben's.

How could that be possible?

She leapt out of bed and raced for the door, screaming, "Ben? Ben?"

An instant later she was in his arms, and between kisses he was saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. I thought I'd get back in there before you woke up."

It began to dawn on her that somehow, incredibly, he was really all right. So all right that they could share a good laugh at how ridiculous he looked, with a two-week growth of untended beard, wearing one of her floral robes.

When they stopped laughing, Ben said, "Hey. I meant that proposal."

She hadn't expected him to remember it. But when she saw the sincerity in his eyes, she threw caution to the winds and followed her heart. "That's good, 'cause I'm gonna hold you to it!"

x

x

x

Hack left the impromptu engagement party - or whatever it was - and drifted into the bedroom. He picked up Ruthie's Bible.

 _This is silly. I don't remember what Book that passage was in. I'm not even sure it's in this Version._

 _But...it's been claimed the passage refers to a great, final struggle, when a special hero will be required to fight the Enemy. I've sensed we live in an extraordinary era. And if Ben is who I believe he is..._

 _If Ben is who I think, and the coming conflict is what I fear, this Bible will open to the correct verse._

He flipped it open.

And found himself looking at _Daniel 12:_ "At that time shall Michael rise up, the great prince, who standeth for the children of thy people: and a time shall come as never was, from the time that nations began..."

Hack dropped to his knees and whispered, "May God protect us."

x

x

x

A week later, Ben was having a late-night smoke on the trailer steps.

Life had gotten back to normal. The carnival was playing in a new town; he was working as hard as ever; his father had presumably gone back to wherever invisible Templars hung out. At the moment, Ben's new wife and stepson were sound asleep.

 _I wish I coulda told Pa the other thing I remember from that night. But I don't dare share it with anyone._

He didn't know how or why he'd come to possess this unsought information. What was the point of an eighteen-year-old American carny's knowing such a thing?

He'd never been to the Middle East. But he knew the name and whereabouts of an obscure village. And if he went there, he'd know where to go _from_ there. Easy as finding his way from these steps to Ruthie's bed.

He took a long drag on his cigarette.

 _Is there a plan here, God? Will You let me in on it, when You're good an' ready?_

He didn't expect an answer, and didn't get one.

For now, he'd just have to live with the knowledge that he, Ben Hawkins, was the guardian of a secret that could destroy the world: _the burial place of Moses._

x

x

x

The End


End file.
